


twenty-six (and ticking)

by atemzug



Category: BTOB
Genre: Alternate Universe - Not K-Pop Idols, Birthday, Exes, Light Angst, M/M, hyunsik is barely there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 21:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atemzug/pseuds/atemzug
Summary: Ilhoon spends his twenty-sixth birthday counting to twenty-six.





	twenty-six (and ticking)

**Author's Note:**

> **this was posted on my old ao3, but i decided i rly wanted this work on this acc too :)**
> 
> happiest birthday to jung ilhoon RungD artist producer composer rapper best idol radio dj my emotional support kpop man child i luv u a lot and only wish u the best (even tho i always seem to write u in angst) ily ily ily ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
> 
> age used is korean age  


Ilhoon lies on top of his bed, arms spread across the covers, awake and alone, staring up at the ceiling and its already slightly peeling paint, feeling a little guilty for not coming home when his parents asked him to. He hasn't gone home in months, which isn't unusual, but before he left for uni when the term started he'd promised his mom that he'd be back on his birthday. He really was meaning to go, but there are things that took a different turn and it's hard for him to swerve them back to the right lane.

_ Twenty-six. _Ilhoon counts the years he's been alive, the years he's spent learning and building himself up. It seems as if it was only yesterday when his sister was trying to calm him down from his tantrum by giving him candy, cheering him up with even more candy and maybe some spare change. It seems as if it was only yesterday when he and his best friend Naeun graduated high school, separating paths for the first time in their lives to go to uni and try to achieve their dreams alone, try to make new memories and live through new experiences without the comfort and assurance of familiarity.

Sometimes Ilhoon wakes up and feels as if time is passing by so quickly, too quickly, like he can just snap his fingers and a year is already over and another one is starting, and he hasn't done everything he'd planned on doing yet. He feels rushed, pressured to always be on the move, needing to go at a pace he's _ forced _to grow comfortable with against his own volition. At times like this he finds that he'd appreciate gentleness, some reassurance, someone else who's not Ilhoon himself to tell him that he's already doing at the very least okay and there's no need to tackle thing after thing consecutively without pause. Sometimes he needs to be reminded to take a breath.

_ Twenty-six_. Ilhoon counts the green glass bottles he's accumulated over the past few weeks and hasn't disposed of yet, lined up neatly on the floor, unexpectedly striking against the yellowing white walls of his small studio apartment, reminding him of the nights he hasn't been able to sleep well. The same nights when he realizes just how empty the bed feels, lacking warmth and the steady hum of someone's breath fanning across his forehead, lacking softly whispered _ Good nights _ and even softlier grazed lips against his skin.

There are times Ilhoon wakes up and feels like time is passing by at a normal and steady pace. These days, he finds particularly good. He doesn't feel rushed, and he doesn't constantly feel like the universe - or some other omnipresent being - is telling him that there's something he's forgetting, but refuse to tell him what it is. These days, he likes to spend walking around idly, with his thin, cold, and frail fingers held firmly in thicker, warmer, and stronger ones. These days, he hasn't been having anymore lately.

_ Twenty-six_. Ilhoon counts the days since he last slept on _ his _side of the bed, not attempting to fill it all by himself. It seems so long ago when he'd last slept comfortably, wrapped safe and secure in trustworthy arms holding him tightly and protecting him from harm, slowing down time whenever Ilhoon feels like it's going on too quickly. It already seems too long ago when he'd last needed someone to do that for him, for someone to pause the movie that is his life and stay there with him for a few moments, reminding him that he's never alone and that he's allowed to withdraw himself from the world and let it spin around without him for a while.

Nowadays Ilhoon wakes up and feels as if time is passing by so slowly, _ too _slowly, or not even moving at all. It's like he's stuck in time and there's something he's supposed to do but doesn't know what, something that's supposed to happen but doesn't happen at all. It leaves him restless, leaves him awake at night, wondering what it is he should be doing that's more important than sleeping.

It's suffocating, waiting for something or someone to pop the balloon he's trapped in, the air already going stale and hot and stuffy and growing more and more stifling each day.

He tosses and turns at night, trying to fall asleep, trying to make both sides of the bed feel warm enough, trying not to hear the ticking of the clock Hyunsik got for him on his birthday last year. But it stays on his bedside table, along with other things that are either from Hyunsik or are Hyunsik's: the fountain pen still in its case, a gift on their first anniversary, the CD Ilhoon scratched with his friend Sungjae's car keys a few days ago to keep himself from listening to the stupid and not-so-stupid songs he and Hyunsik wrote together, some shirts Hyunsik left in the apartment that Ilhoon likes to wear when nights are too cold and too long. 

_ Twenty-six. _Ilhoon counts the calls he's declined from a number he deleted twenty-six days ago but remembers every single digit of, anyway.

_ Twenty-six. _ Ilhoon counts the times he's had the opportunity to say what he wants: _ I love you. I miss you. I need you. _ But he let it all slip away. 

_ Twenty-six. _ Ilhoon counts the chances he could've taken to make things right again, to press rewind and turn back time, to run unabashedly into Hyunsik's arms and feel safe and at ease. 

_ Twenty-six. _Ilhoon counts again for the last time tonight, until the clock strikes midnight and the twenty-six days are over, the twenty-six chances are gone. 

Ilhoon heaves a deep sigh and finally gets up from bed.

_ Twenty-seven. _ He uncaps his newest bottle, drinking straight from it, gulping down fluids that's supposed to help him sleep tonight.

Ilhoon holds his breath.

_ Twenty-seven. _He counts for the first time today when he receives another call from the same deleted contact number. 

_ Twenty-seven. _He counts before he swipes his thumb across the screen and places the phone near his ear.

There's a sharp intake of breath from the other end of the line, and Ilhoon is tempted to count again. He doesn't get to finish counting up to twenty-seven when Hyunsik finally speaks. 

"Ilhoonie," he says, and suddenly Ilhoon can't believe it's been _ that _ long since he last heard the other's voice. "I'm twenty-six minutes late, but happy birthday. I love you."

_ I'm twenty-six shots too late but, _"I love you, too, hyung," Ilhoon whispers back.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! hbd ilhoon ily ♡♡♡
> 
> [cc](http://www.curiouscat.me/321s)


End file.
